


never been better

by iamnotalizard



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Minor Violence, Recreational Drug Use, Robbers AU, Unhealthy Relationships, does this have a plot?, fuck idk, like the song not the profession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 20:45:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3088742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamnotalizard/pseuds/iamnotalizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael’s got seventeen years of boiling hot New Jersey blood pumping through his veins, but when he bites his lip hard enough that some seeps out, the only thing on his mind is Gavin Free</p>
            </blockquote>





	never been better

**Author's Note:**

> [THROWS LONG RAMBIEY HORRIBLE THING INTO THE CROWD AND RUNS]

Michael’s got seventeen years of boiling hot New Jersey blood pumping through his veins, but when he bites his lip hard enough that some seeps out, the only thing on his mind is Gavin Free.

-x-x-

When Michael was seven, he fell down and landed on some glass. It was a shallow cut on his knee, not that much blood, but at seven with all chubby cheeks and soft skin, it was the worst pain he’d ever felt. Crying and screaming, he ran to his mom and wouldn’t let go until she cleaned it all up and placed a Band-aid and a kiss onto the scabs. It didn’t even leave a scar.

Nine years later, Michael pulled glass out of his own elbow with a pair of tweezers and splashed some vodka on it, just to be safe, without shedding a tear. With all sharp edges and cutting corners, Michael sometimes forgot what it’s like being able to run and cry for help.

-x-x-

He met Gavin Free when he was fifteen, and it’s the best goddamn year of his life. Full of excitement and joy, with new things around every corner. Even though his memory is now clouded with cigarette smoke and a soft drunken haze, Michael always remembers the warm padded feeling of being in love. The soft cushion of warmth that made him feel safe, like no matter what happened, he’d be okay.

Michael and Gavin met behind an old costume shop on a tuesday, at nine in the evening. Michael was smoking, and Gavin was drinking the cheap, watered down beer that kids who were legal sold to minors. Within the first fifteen minutes of them meeting, Michael called Gavin a fuckface twice, and said he sounded like some posh fuck. Gavin just giggled.

After two weeks of knowing each other, two weeks of accidental run-ins behind the buildings where kids went to drink and pretend to be older than they were, they kissed. Not some chaste, quick peck of the lips kiss, but a drunken one. One where there was clashing of teeth, and when they pulled away, their lips were red and swollen.

A week after that, they declared they were in love. Two weeks after that, Gavin failed his third history test in a row.

-x-x-

Gavin told his mother that he was in love when she asked him why he was out of the house of often, and why, when he came back, he was always flushed and giggling, with a smile bigger than she had ever seen. At the time she smiled, pet his hair, kissed his cheek, and just laughed, said okay. Teenagers fell in love all the time, fell out of it just as easy.

Looking back, she decides that it wasn’t really anybodys fault for what happened.

-x-x-

Michael and Gavin were laying in a dirty motel bed. The ceiling was cracked, and had stains on it from years of water damage taking its toll. The people in the room next to theirs were having sex. Loud, angry sex, full of shouting and cursing. Michael and Gavin couldn’t stop giggling.

Gavin passed the bottle of cheap wine to Michael, saying, “Okay, okay, so I figure we can leave in the morning, catch a train and we’ll be out of Jersey in bit, or we can stay here for a bit, and steal a car.” Michael nodded, taking a few large sips.

“Which one would cost less?” he asked, passing the bottle back. When Gavin reached for it, they let their hands linger for a few seconds, before Gavin brought the bottle to his lips.

“Well, I mean, it would cost less to leave in the morning, and steal a car, but that seems too risky,” they already stole a car to get there, two days ago, and managed to get a few towns over, before ditching the car in a side street, keys still in the ignition, “but the train pencils out to be cheaper, especially if we can leave before it counts as another day in the room.”

Michael nodded yet again, twirling a piece of Gavin’s hair around his finger. When they met, Gavin had long hair, and while it was fun to tug and pull at it, Michael had to admit he liked the shorter hair a bit better. Gavin shook the bottle side to side and said, “Only a bit left, you want it?”

“How ‘bout we share?” Michael suggested. Gavin laughed a bit, and tipped the contents of the bottle into his mouth before leaning towards Michael’s lips. They split the wine as equally as they could without seeing it, not that they cared all that much as their lips were pressed together.

They signed out of the motel at three a.m, with bags under their eyes and hickeys on their throat. The employee at the desk asked them if they’re okay. Michael didn’t smile, but his emotions slipped out through his words as he said, “Never been better.”

It took them two hours to walk to a train station, but it was worth it, since they spent the whole time holding hands and talking about the future. For once, both of them were excited for it.

-x-x-

At fifteen there was still a lot both of them didn’t know, but they taught each other a lot. Michael showed Gavin how to hold his keys, with one jutting out from between his fingers like claws, as well as broken bones and how to throw a punch so that it hurts. Normal shit.

Gavin taught Michael how to act innocent (something that Michael had never been good at), how to tell when something is worth fighting over and when it’s not worth it, and how to find the perfect mixture between alcohol and water to make you drunk but watered down enough that you don’t get too bad of a hangover. Basic shit for teenagers.

There’s still a lot they didn’t know, but they didn’t think they needed to learn it. At fifteen, almost sixteen, they were at the top of the world. Kings. They ditched school every now and then to get drunk in Michael’s room, sitting cross legged on the bed and running their fingers over each other, mapping each others body. They learned some things that no one else would ever know. Gavin learns that there’s a scar on Michael’s leg from a childhood accident that he can’t even remember, that there’s freckles across his back. The veins on Gavin’s thighs stand out, bright blue and green in contrast to his skin, he has a birthmark on his hip that doesn’t look much like anything, and when he lifts his arms up over his head the skin over his chest becomes tight enough that Michael could see the slight vibration of his heart beating.

They learned things that no one else in the entire universe would ever know about each other, and they think that’s more important that anything anyone else could ever teach them.

If at fifteen they think they’re kings, at sixteen they’re gods, maybe gods whose religion has been long forgotten, gods who no one has heard of, but gods none the less. With no one else around worship them, they worship each other.

At school, both of them were failing. Michael’s mom blamed video games, Gavin’s dad blamed television, and Michael and Gavin snuck out every night to do nothing with each other but talk about the future and what-ifs. Michael’s parents said that if he keeps this up, his future will be ruined, but all he could see was it unfolding right in front of him.

-x-x-

Gavin first took ecstasy when he was seventeen, at the back of some club in Middle Of Nowhere, West Virginia. Michael and Gavin managed to get there on expired train tickets and spare change, deciding to save their money until they got out of the state, then some how were able to hitch rides until they found a motel cheap enough that they could stay for a prolonged period of time.

A few minutes after the pill touched Gavin’s tongue, he felt like he was flying. He was giggling, hanging off of Michael. He danced with strangers, and he couldn’t remember the last time he was this awake. Michael rolled his eyes, and forced Gavin to drink a whole bottle of water before leaving him alone. He’d found the perfect way to get money without working, that allowed him and Gavin to go out and have fun any night they wanted too. He found the people who were passed out, or almost, and helped them outside, waved down a cab for them. Most people were alone, or their group was too drunk to care when he dug a wallet out of someone’s pocket, and took as much money as he morally could. On a good night, he made maybe one hundred dollars.

Gavin helped too, sometimes; managed to get people to drink, to dance, to forget about their friends, then left them to drink some more.

For three days after Gavin took ecstasy, he was twitchy and tired, and complained about a sore jaw. Michael just laughed and kissed his forehead, telling him to rest, that he’ll be back in the morning.

Six weeks later, they have enough money to by an almost dead car, one that was probably stolen. It made weird noises when they shift gears, but it worked, it drove, and they loved it.

“It’s our first offical buy as a couple,” Gavin cooed as they sat in the back seat, covered in sweat and naked, save for their underwear. They were in an empty parking lot, and it was two in the morning. “It’s ours forever and ever!”

"Gavin, you do know that this will probably fall apart after a few hundred miles?” Michael rubbed his thumb in circles on Gavin’s thigh, tracing the veins lightly. He thought they looked like lightning bolts, like rivers that flowed through Gavin. He thought they were pretty.

Gavin huffed, “Yeah, but it’ll fall apart as ours!” He then leaned over and kissed Michael to keep him from making a sarcastic response. They got dressed, Gavin wore Michael hoodie, and Michael didn’t bother putting a shirt on and they sped down the freeway. Breaking every speeding limit they saw, laughing while it happened. Every dozen miles or so, the engine would make a weird noise and Michael would ease up only to go faster after a minute. Gavin laughed and kept chanting, “Faster! Faster!” which Michael obeyed.

In one night they got farther than they had in a whole week, not that it mattered much. They had no maps, no where to do and no destination in mind, and yet behind their eyelids they could see everything they wanted to do. The possibility were endless and when they were hyped up on alcohol, love and drugs, it didn’t matter much to either of them that they didn’t have a plan. They were young and pretty and oh so in love. They didn’t need a plan, they had each other.

-x-x-

Michael tried coke when he was eighteen, he’d never been much of a drugs guy, that was more of Gavin’s thing; always trying to chase something, a new horizon and better buzz. It was something that Michael both loved about him and got frustrated about. He snorted the lines up through a straw, his eyes watered and he got a nosebleed. They were at a party, Gavin got buddy-buddy with some guys at a bar and managed to get an invite. Neither of them cared much about socializing, but they jumped at the chance to get free booze. The party host - christ, Michael couldn’t be bothered to remember his name - laughed, shoved him a tissue, and told him that he’ll feel so much better in a few minutes. It took less than a few minutes for Michael to feel amazing, and for the rest of the night he was a giggling mess, jumping up and down on the balls of his feet, giving Gavin kisses everywhere, and making a total mess of things.

Gavin picked up the slack, and shoved a few bottles of beer and vodka into a backpack that Michael brought, along with some food and whatever money he could nick without feeling bad. Typical business day for them. Michael was so high he couldn’t even drive. When he’d sobered up, Gavin said that he looked so excited, so cute, like a little kid at christmas. Michael threw an empty can of pop at him.

They had an agreement: they don’t buy drugs (they cost too much) until they had a solid, good money flow. They don’t buy drugs. They were still looking for a place to settle down, since they were still living out of motels and their car - not the first car they bought, another trash can on wheels, since the last one got totaled.

Once both their hangovers had dwindled down to just a slight headache, they packed things up, and left the motel. The employee at the desks looked at the bags under Gavin’s eyes and the blood dried around Michael’s nose and asked if they were okay. Gavin grinned and said they’d never been better, and they left. They were still young, and still pretty and still so in love. They had a car, a couple hundred bucks, a few bottles of beer and each other, what more could they possibly need?

-x-x-

They had their first major fight in Texas. They didn’t even know how they ended up there but neither cared enough at the moment to give a fuck. They were drunk and high and nothing would hide the bags underneath both their eyes. They were still young - both nineteen - and still pretty even with thinner faces and busted lips and at that very second they felt nothing but complete and utter hatred for each other.

It wasn’t some child play hate either. It’s the burning kind, the boiling kind, the kind of hate that makes your heart burn and skin scorch.

It’s kind of refreshing actually.

For weeks they’d been doing this, driving around, trying to get enough money, then drinking it away, all while whispering soft, I love yous before they went to sleep in the back seat of their car.

They just yelled and screamed, they were on the side of the round in the middle of Fucking Nowhere, Texas and the car had died. There was nothing for miles and miles and it was dark and Gavin was so drunk he could barely walk five feet without falling over, and Michael was so high he swore he could feel lightning pulsing under his skin.

“This isn’t my fault!” Gavin shouted, he’s been saying that for the last few minutes, but nothing really registered in Michael’s brain. “This isn’t my fault!”  
  


Michael hadn’t thought about it in years, but for some reason he thought of his old home. Back to when he used to break his toys and his dad would fix it and his mom would pet his hair. The thought vanished quickly, but left a strange feeling.

“How could you not tell me the check engine light was on! You’ve been driving for the past week!” Michael screamed, his voice echoing into the complete nothingness of the night.

“The light is always flashing! It was flashing when we bought it!”

“No it wasn’t!”

“This isn’t my fault, Michael!” Gavin yelled, tears threatening to fall down his face. “This isn’t my fault!”

There’s nothing either of them could do, really, except yell at each other. They couldn’t call anyone for help, and they couldn’t very well walk to the gas station they saw a few miles back. After a while Michael’s voice was gone, and Gavin’s face was wet with tears. They stared at each other for a few minutes, then Gavin opened the car door and got into the back seat. Michael seethed outside for a bit, throwing rocks and hitting the car until his knuckles were sore. Then he climbed into the backseat too.

They fell asleep and when they woke up they said they’re sorry and kiss it all better. They twisted the key in the ignition and the car sputters, then starts. They laughed and pretended the night before didn’t happen, but Gavin swore he could still hear Michael’s angry voice echoing in his ears, and Michael’s knuckles were still red and sore.

They stopped at a gas station, and kid working the counter took one look at the bags under their eyes, their dirty clothes and asked if they were okay. They both gave the fakest smiles they've ever made and, lying through their teeth, said, “Never been better.”

The check engine light was still flashing but neither of them mentioned it.

-x-x-

At some point in time, they realized they were running out of money, and fast. Their normal scam wasn’t working as well anymore, and they either needed a new car or to have it fixed. They didn’t have enough money for either.

They meet Geoff in a bar and Michael swore he’s an angel with tattoos and a mouth dirtier than a sailor’s. He let them both crash on his couch for a few days, their car parked in his garage. They weren’t sure what his job was, or what his wife, Griffon, did, but neither could bring themselves to care when the two older adults let them eat dinner with them, or when Griffon rolled her eyes and went out to buy both of them new clothes, since the ones they were wearing were old, dirty and either too tight or too loose. Geoff laughed at Gavin’s jokes, loud and honest, and debated with Michael. For the first time in nearly three years, it was like they had parents again, except Geoff and Griffon didn’t get mad when they drank, or when Gavin got too loud, or if Michael said fuck too much. They both liked it a lot more than either would admit. For five and a half days, it’s like nothing bad had happened, like Gavin didn’t have bruises on his hips from when his nightclub drug hookups get too rough. Like Michael didn’t have bags under his eyes so dark they looked like bruises. Like both their voices aren’t so rough and slurred from night after night of drinking and yelling that it sounded like they were sick.

Griffon asked what their favourite food was, and Michael was just fucking baffled.

On their last day with them, Michael counted what little pocket change he had and told Gavin that they’re going to the store. They hadn’t been grocery shopping for real in a while, and they went to pick up bread, butter, a tin of cookies and a jug of milk, and put all of it away. Geoff is off doing whatever the fuck he does for a living, and Griffon popped out and said she wouldn’t be back until late. Of course, both of them were under the assumption that when they got home, Gavin would be sprawled out on the couch and Michael would be taking a cat nap in the guest room, like they both normally were when the Ramsey’s get home. After maybe half an hour, Michael would wander into the living room, rubbing sleep from his eyes and cuddle up near Gavin. The four of them would talk, see what who wanted for dinner, then a movie, maybe a video game and late night drinks before bed.

They put the food away, then found a sticky note to put on the fridge, saying thank you, but we really gotta go, we’ll call you once we reach a pay phone a few cities over. Gavin went to unload the laundry, separating all their clothes from Geoff’s and Griffon’s, putting all the nice, clean clothes into a bag. Michael made sure the car is full of gas, checked the tire pressure, and the oil. They were done within half an hour, and had their things in the car, ready to go.

Then they went through Griffon’s jewelry box. They took the thin gold rings that are at the bottom, ones that they could tell hadn’t been worn in a while - Gavin’s mom had rings like that, dull from not being worn, but ever so expensive - they took pearl earrings and necklaces, they dug through the couch cushions and take all the money they can find. Going through the bedside tables, they found a few twenties hidden away, and took those too.

They liked Geoff, they really did, but if there’s one thing Michael had learned on this adventure, it’s that the longer you do something, the less it makes you question your morals. He’d probably made hundreds stealing from drunk kids.

They liked Griffon, a lot, thought she was nice, quirky, had a lot of spunk to her, but just looking at her arms, the amount of money put into the art on them, made them think of all the nights they’d almost freezed sleeping in the back of their shitty car, of all the days they had to choose between gas money and eating.

Gavin and Michael liked the Ramsay’s, they really did, but given the option between this temporary family, one that’s probably going to tire of them very soon, and love, and they knew their love wais gonna last forever, they’d pick love every time.

-x-x-

Gavin ended up covered in blood in Arizona, holding a knife to Michael’s arm.

“I love you,” Michael said, no malice to it, eyes full of adoration. Neither knew how they got here, never did have any maps.

“I love you too,” Gavin said, then yanked his arm back.

Blood bubbled out of the cut, then slipped out, running down Michael’s arm like a snake. Gavin only touched it for a second, but it felt like heat, like hell was under Michael’s skin. They figured that for all the bad shit they’d done, they should be punished somehow. It was one of Gavin’s many two a.m thoughts that actually stuck. They didn’t do it often, since they couldn’t afford to go to the doctors if something went wrong, but they did it enough that sometimes Gavin wondered if he knew what he was doing.

They were on their fourth car, and they thought she was gonna give out on them soon.

-x-x-

The first time they robbed a gas station, Michael ended up having a panic attack six miles down the road when they’re driving away, and almost drove them into a ditch. It felt like something was crushing his chest, taking space up from the inside, pushing his heart out of the way, and for the first time in a while he felt scared.

Holding an unloaded gun to a kids head didn’t really make him feel a whole lot, something that did make him feel bad, but he couldn’t help it. Nothing seemed very real anymore, not the fact that the speedometer on the car was going up faster than it ever had before, or the fact that they spent so little time in each city. Sometimes Michael didn’t even know if Gavin was real anymore. Sometimes Michael didn’t even know if he was real anymore.

They made it back to a motel without a scratch, and had about three hundred dollars more than before. They were saving up, Gavin wanted to settle down. Get a house, he said, at least a better car. Maybe get a real job. Michael just shrugged at the time, going along with it. They’re happy, he guessed.

Michael thought about going home more often then, for some reason. He thought it was because he turned nineteen and realized that he would’ve probably be in college if he’d stayed home. His dad always wanted Michael to go to college. He didn’t go home though, didn’t even think of it as home anymore, more like Where Mom and Dad still live. Probably live. Since he didn’t know if they still lived there. Despite all the fights he and his mom had before he left, he was pretty sure his parents did love him an awful lot.

He just loved Gavin more.

At the motel, when Gavin is refolding clothes and putting them back into their bags, he mentioned that Michael’s been quiet lately.

“Are you okay?” He asked, voice all concern and love, and Michael didn’t really know the answer anymore. Michael ended up shrugging and looked at the small pile of money they had, all counted and sorted neatly into tens, twenties and ones.

“We’re gonna need more if you want that house,” he said softly. Gavin nodded, and looked more excited than he should as he started talking about a bar in town that had a reputation for letting minors in, and how it would be so easy to make just a few more dollars there.

Michael missed when he was the one leading Gavin astray.

-x-x-

The asphalt was hot, burning, underneath the tires. Gavin reclined his seat a few hours ago, sprawled out with his feet on the dash, window open. They still didn’t have an air conditioner that worked, and it only just occurred to Michael that it bugged him a bit.  

Inside the car, it felt like a hundred degrees, hot enough that if they stopped moving, they would suffocate. So instead, Michael kept driving, kept the car moving down the highway.

He wondered if they had a plan anymore, if they ever did. Gavin was sleeping, and Michael didn’t want to wake him up, so he didn’t ask. Besides, he figured, he knows what they’re doing right now. That’s enough for him.

-x-x-

Gavin got shot in the arm on their fifth gas station robbery. Go figure, the owner of the place who pays all the employees the minimum wage and not a penny more bought an expensive gun. Michael would laugh if he weren’t panicking over the blood coming out of Gavin’s arm.

They didn’t hurt anyone, just grabbed what they could and ran back to the car. They drove fast for ten minutes, before they saw police cars driving in the opposite direction and figured they were safe. All the while, Gavin was in the back seat, gasping for air with his hand clamped over his arm, blood trickling out from between his fingers. Michael pulled over when he thought they were okay, then turned to him, saying, “You have to let me look at it, baby, I have to see it,” and “It’s just a scratch okay, you’ll be okay” and once they’d tied a piece of cloth around his arm and put pressure on it, it only took ten minutes for it to stop bleeding.

They only managed to get about twenty dollars. They didn’t talk about it much, but it was the last time they tried to pull something like that again.

-x-x-

In a motel room at three in the morning, it’s easy to forget where you are. Sometimes Michael pretended that it was when they first started this little adventure, back when the world was opening up for them and everything was exciting and new. Gavin liked to imagine that they were where he wanted them to be, anywhere at all, but happy; not worrying about money and cars and everything.

It hurt more when they stopped pretending and realized that there was no one to blame except themselves or each other, but for a little while everything was okay. Gavin was pretty sure they still loved each other. They’re happy when they’re driving; when they have the windows open and Gavin is telling Michael funny things that he thought, when Michael pushes on the gas pedal to make the car lurch forward and Gavin squeals with laughter. Gavin thought that if they never stopped moving, things would be a lot better, but he also knew that wasn’t possible.

Still, when they grab all their things and go to check out, sometimes the person working at the desk looks at the bags under their eyes, the way that Michael’s hands are battered and how Gavin’s arms are bruised and asks them if they’re okay. Sometimes they lie, and sometimes they don’t but whenever they answer they smile and say, “Never been better,” and that’s good enough for both of them.

### 

**Author's Note:**

> so this was shit but my crippling self doubt and internalized feeling prevent me from branching out from a style or type of things that i know l a u g h s  
> also s/o to dylan for editing this ily  
> title is from robbers by the 1975


End file.
